Aliens:Bravo Squad
by Defstryk
Summary: A new view at the events of 'Aliens' from a fictional squad's point


Presented to you by: Defstryk  
  
Email: Defstryk@hotmail.com  
  
Aliens: Bravo Squad  
  
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Readers take note:  
  
Copyright information: This story is MINE. If anybody else is interested in using this on their site, write to me to get permission. If I find ANYBODY copying this without my permission, ill make sure ill nail you to the wall...  
  
Regarding a mistake: Readers take note. There's a mistake (only noticeable to those familiar with the movies and games) I made within the storyline. I'm not going to tell what it is because the story's fine even with the mistake. But if you can find out, kudos.  
  
Regarding Storyline: This story is my work and is based on the movie, Aliens. The story depicted herein takes place concurrently with the movie, as you will soon discover. Although Bravo Squad doesn't exist in the film, I think it is absurd to assume that the `Company' only sends one squad (Alpha team) to investigate LV426. That is why I created Bravo Squad. Their purpose is to fill in plot holes and also to offer a new perspective on the events of the film.  
  
Regarding details: Take note that this is a work in progress. As such, many of the finer points of detail wont be added until I'm nearly finished writing the whole story. The whole purpose of me writing this is not to show off or to attempt to get this published (although that would be cool). Instead, I'm writing this purely for fun and also as a way to test my skills. I know some of the readers may think me too conceited of my own skills but personally, I don't really care. As a famous man once said, "You can try to change everything about a person. You may even succeed in changing somethings about said person. BUT the one thing you will never change by external means is his opinion."  
  
Regarding resource materials: Everything (settings, some weapons and characters (except for Bravo) are taken from the movie, Aliens. The Grenade launcher, SADAR and chaingun are taken from the various games based on the Aliens universe (mostly from Aliens Vs Predator and Aliens Vs Predator 2). The timeline is purely bogus though.  
  
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Persona Biographies  
  
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Lieutenant Commander Jackson Briggs  
  
Age: 27  
  
Sex: Male  
  
Nationality: American  
  
Date of Birth: 3rd May 2160  
  
Place of Birth: Our Mother of Mercy Hospital--New Chicago  
  
Specialty: Frontal Assaults and Guerilla Warfare  
  
History: Joined Marine Corp at age 17.Fought in The Great Divide war. Decorated for bravery beyond the call of duty. Applied for position in Colonial Marines at age 21. Entry accepted immediately. Given own squad (named the squad Bravo) and sent to provide security for colonists on the outer rim. Returned to Earth after six years tour of duty on Rim worlds. Immediately assigned to Sulaco as secondary back-up commander.  
  
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Sergeant Mutombo Hadji  
  
Age: 28  
  
Sex: male  
  
Nationality: Sudanese at birth. Migrated to America and became citizen.  
  
Place of Birth: No records given  
  
Date of Birth: 2^nd March 2159  
  
Specialty: Infiltration  
  
History: Enlisted in army because wanted to fight for a good cause instead of for fun. Excelled in basic training and sent to Zanzibar as spy to pave the way for future invasion by Allied Forces in the Great Divide War. A key factor in liberating Zanzibar from the enemy. Turned down promotion to General to remain a grunt. Joined Bravo Squad in 2185. Immediately assigned as 2^nd in command.  
  
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Lance Corporal Guy (Giovani) Andreatti  
  
Age: 24  
  
Sex: Male  
  
Nationality: Italian  
  
Place of Birth: Rome, Italy  
  
Date of Birth: 27^th October 2163  
  
Specialty: Reconnaissance  
  
History: Joined the Italian Special Forces near end of the Great Divide War. Participated only in minor skirmishes near the Outer Regions. Left the unit after a disagreement regarding orders. Went to Europa colony on Jupiter's moon to live. Saved LT. Briggs life when the Bravos were on Europa suppressing the colony's insurrection. Accepted invitation to join Bravo when asked by Briggs.  
  
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Sergeant Adam McGregor  
  
Age: 31  
  
Sex: male  
  
Nationality: American  
  
Place of Birth: Lincoln Memorial hospital, New York  
  
Date of Birth: 13^th July 2156  
  
Specialty: Heavy Weapons  
  
History: CLASSIFIED  
  
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Supporting Cast:  
  
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Carter Burke  
  
Age: Unconfirmed  
  
Sex: Male  
  
Nationality: American  
  
Place of Birth: Unknown  
  
Date of Birth: Unknown  
  
Position in Weyland: Bureaucrat  
  
History: Burke tagged along with the marines as Weyland's representative, sent to access the viability and seriousness of the situation on LV426. Unbeknownst to the other members of the crew, Burke had a more devious mission in mind--to transport back the Xenomorph back to earth for use in Weyland's bio-weapons division, no matter what the cost...  
  
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Lieutenant Ellen Ripley  
  
Previous rank on Nostromo: Warrant Officer  
  
Age: Unconfirmed due to complications on her space travel logs  
  
Sex: Female  
  
Nationality: American  
  
Place of Birth: Unknown  
  
Date of Birth: Unknown  
  
Position in Weyland: None  
  
Position as member of crew: Advisor on Xenomorphs  
  
History: The first ever human to discover the Xenomorph's existence and also the only survivor of the Nostromo. Ripley was found after 57 years adrift in space, asleep inside a sleeping chamber. Brought back to Gateway Station, Ripley is questioned about the mysterious circumstances surrounding the Nostromo's disappearance. When contact with LV426 was lost, Ripley was `persuaded' by Burke to accompany him as advisor on the Xenomorphs.  
  
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Lieutenant Gorman  
  
Sex: Male  
  
Age: Undisclosed  
  
Nationality: American  
  
Place of Birth: Unknown  
  
Date of Birth: Unknown  
  
Position in Weyland: None  
  
Position as member of crew: Mission Commander  
  
History: Assigned as mission commander on the Sulaco, Gorman is relatively inexperienced to the harsh reality of the real world. Having been in only 1 real combat situation, Gorman's stability and reliability to handle stress under pressure is largely untested...  
  
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Weapons:  
  
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Name: M41 Pulse Rifle  
  
Class: Machinegun  
  
Capacity: 99 rounds per clip with 8 grenades maximum in the grenade launcher  
  
Clip size: 99 bullets  
  
Capability: Fires either armor piercing or caseless ammunition. Grenade launcher capable of firing frag, incendiary or scatter grenades.  
  
Firing Selection: Full auto, triple burst or single shot for the gun and pump action for the grenade launcher.  
  
The Pulse Rifle is the workhorse of the USMC. A primary weapon issued to every combat personnel, the rifle is designed to be lightweight while still be able to deliver a punch. Earlier revisions of the weapon had a flame-thrower in place of the grenade launcher but that was soon scrapped as the fuel needed to carry was too unstable and tended to combust at the slightest jar.  
  
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Name: Chaingun  
  
Class: Heavy Machine gun  
  
Capacity: 900 rounds  
  
Clip size: Unavailable. Chainguns are reloaded by changing the ammunition box at the end altogether. 1 box contains 900 bullets.  
  
Capability: Fires at a rate of 100 bullets per second. Accepts armor piercing only.  
  
Firing selection: User  
  
With rounded 8 barrels that constantly cycle, the chaingun has an amazing firing rate. Able to reduce anything in its path in a matter of seconds, it is truly a weapon to be feared. In spite of its incredible destructive capabilities, the chaingun is rarely used. Its heavy weight coupled with its 3-second delay before firing are the main reasons cited. Since its introduction, the chaingun has had many different variations, which finally culminated in the design of the more widely used smartgun.  
  
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Name: Shotgun  
  
Class: Close Range Projectile Weapon  
  
Capacity: 8 rounds in chamber  
  
Clip size: Unavailable. Manual reload.  
  
Capability: Can use either scatter rounds or concentrated ones. Able to fire single shot or to fire all the rounds in the chamber at once for maximum effect.  
  
Firing selection: User discretion  
  
The shotgun used in the USMC is a descendant of the Remington used in the late 1990s and early 2000. The shotgun's evolution remained fairly stagnant when compared to other weapons. Its only significant upgrade is its ability to now fire 2 types of ammunition. It has also adapted a popular feature of the SPAS-12 in that it allows the user to fire all the rounds chambered at once.  
  
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Name: M56 Smartgun  
  
Class: Advanced Heavy Machinegun  
  
Capacity: 500 rounds  
  
Clip size: 500 rounds  
  
Capability: Computer assisted targeting. Able to target anything in any condition. Fires armor piercing only.  
  
Firing selection: Auto aim or manual.  
  
The smartgun is a weapon of choice for users who like the firepower of the chaingun and the versatility of a pulse rifle. The smartgun, when used with the user's special head mounted targeting computer, allows it to be fired automatically without user aiming. The feature is what makes the gun so versatile. It can fire in total darkness and can also track targets moving at incredible speeds. Unlike the its predecessor the smartgun uses a clip to reload. Thus it is yet another improvement of the chaingun's box reload method.  
  
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Name: SADAR rocket launcher  
  
Class: Portable rocket launcher  
  
Capacity: 5 rockets  
  
Clip size: 2 rockets  
  
Capability: Fires 1 dumbfire missile or 1 tracking missile per shot.  
  
Firing selection: Homing or Normal  
  
An anti-vehicle weapon, the SADAR is rarely used for normal missions by the marines. Its destructive force coupled with the immensely powerful shockwave after its missile's detonation makes it an incredibly lethal weapon to both vehicles and combatants alike. Because most colonial marines missions are in space, the weapon rarely sees use. Cramp conditions do not make the best place to test this weapon as tons of marines demonstrated during the Skylark Campaign when they disobeyed orders and blew themselves sky high.  
  
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Name: Grenade Launcher  
  
Class: Portable grenade launcher/ riot gun  
  
Capacity: 12 grenades  
  
Clip size: Unavailable. Manual reload.  
  
Capability: Fires fragmentation, proximity, timed or incendiary grenades via a selector at the handle.  
  
Firing selection: Manual  
  
This weapon is wide used by the USMC since its inception during the Great Divide War. Originally designed purely as a defensive weapon, it has since become a front runner in quelling insurrections on the Outer Rim. By modifying the weapon to fire tear gas, this gun has effectively been converted from a weapon of mass destruction to that for riot control. Although, no teargas will likely be used on LV426, the weapon's various payloads make it worthwhile just having it along.  
  
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Name: Flame-thrower  
  
Class: Short-range incendiary weapon  
  
Capacity: 1 liter of fuel  
  
Clip size: Unavailable. Reloads by changing the fuel canisters.  
  
Capability: Fires a jet of flame that is around 500 degrees with a range of up to 3 meters.  
  
Firing selection: Manual  
  
An incredibly powerful weapon, the flame-thrower is favorite among marines as a secondary or back-up weapon. The current variation of the flame-thrower is a direct descendant of the failed version for the pulse rifle. By eliminating the pulse rifle's flimsy shell, marine engineers managed to create a more stable and dependable container for the fuel, thus resulting in the revised weapon being more stable and less prone to exploding like its predecessor. Able to melt almost anything, the thrower is mostly used to clear rooms of hostiles or to weaken structures before unleashing a SADAR rocket into them. As such, it is an excellent demolition and anti-personnel weapon all rolled into one.  
  
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Prologue  
  
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Dreams...You can't do a freaking thing about them. If they're good, just sit back, relax and enjoy the freaking ride. But if they're bad, Its time for hell...  
  
In deep sleep, dreams are your only companions. You don't eat, talk, bathe or do anything you normally do. No interaction...Nada. Nothing. Zilch. Zip. Zero. You just lie there and dream. And dream. And dream. And dream some more. They become like bad sitcoms on TV that never seem to go away. Just as you thought that you had reached the end of one, another comes out of nowhere and hits you. Good dreams or bad dreams...you can't avoid them nor choose them in space. Its a toss up between the powers that be on whether they screw you royally or place you in cloud 9.No freaking way out. 'Cause in space, you can't wake up even if you wanted to--the damn computer won't let you. Instead, it forces you to remain asleep...  
  
Personally, I don't give a shit which dreams come my way. I kick ass in real life and ill sure as hell kick ass in my fucked up dreams. Hell yeah! Semper fidelis and all that marine crap. I sure as hell don't believe in the macho marine motto and slang but goddamn its sure fun to shout it out loud just to piss off you C.O.' Course that just earns you a royal dressing down. But hey, like they say-You win some, you lose a whole lot more (at least that's the saying here in the USMC). That's United States Marine Corps to all you lily-livered tenderfoots out there who don't know the difference between a C.O. and C.I.  
  
And me? I'm the bad ass that leads the Bravo team. Lieutenant Commander Jackson Briggs. LC Briggs or just LC to the grunts. Hell, I don't give a hoot on what they call me as long as it begins or ends with SIR. There was this marine that i let call me something else but that's an entirely different story...hehe.  
  
So, like i was saying, dreams are hell. But reality is EVEN worse. Its especially bad if you had a particular nasty dream before waking up to the freaking cold of space. I sure as freaking hell know the feeling. Like they say, experience is the best. Well, whoever said it hadn't definitely been sleeping in a cramped capsule the size of a tall bookcase for a few months...  
  
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Chapter 1:A Change of Plans  
  
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I opened my eyes to the bright whiteness of the cryogenic chamber. I immediately regretted doing that. God knows that I've not used my eyeballs for a few months. I think they need some time to get up to speed.  
  
"Somebody should complain `bout the color of these rooms." I mumbled to myself as I thumbed the switch that was by my side, giving it the command to let me out.  
  
I knew that I'm not gonna enjoy the mission as soon as the lid from the sleeping chamber opened. Don't ask me why. I just felt it in my bones. I know you people out there are probably laughing your guts out on my intuitions but let me tell you something....in a battle, they are your most valuable ally. So if you intuition is severely fucked up, you're pretty much screwed buddy. Tough, but that's life.  
  
But the bad feeling became even worse when the first thing i saw was Mutombo's fugly (I made this freaking word up one day while in boot camp. Basically it just means fucking ugly) mug smiling at yours truly. Let me tell ya, he ain't gonna be winning Mr. Universe even when he's at his prime and now was definitely not his prime...  
  
"Bad dreams, eh LC?" mumbled Mutombo.  
  
"Are there any other kinds?" I replied. I didn't feel like joking at the moment but i felt that banter keeps morale high amongst the apes.  
  
"Well, I've heard 'rumors' about a new kind of dream. I think the chem-heads back on terra firma call them `Good' dreams. Whatever that means." mumbled back Mutombo while flashing me a quick grin.  
  
Before I had even time to answer another voice broke in.  
  
"OOOOOhhhhh, funny, Tom (Everybody calls Mutombo that. muTOMbo. get it?).Real freaking funny. I almost bust my gut there." That from Guy, the wisecrack and top scout in the outfit. Naw, scratch that, the whole USMC is more like it. Ask him to scout a spot on a map and give him a few minutes. He'll be back with details on everything in the area that make satellite pictures and Intel look like they were gathered from the rubbish...Well, not exactly...but you get my drift.  
  
I could tell that Tom was trying to come out with something to answer Guy but I didn't care to wait for it, With a simple nod to the guys, I made my way to the showers. Hmmm...perhaps stumbled my way to the showers is more appropriate. I knew showers didn't do shit `bout clearing out the cobwebs in my brain but it was the only thing that I was able to do. That, plus the fact that I stink...  
  
But before going to the showers, I decided to make a quick pit stop at the locker room to get some new overalls. The ones I had on stink like hell. Thank god the room was just next to the cryo chamber, I was still tumbling around like a drunken sailor when I entered the room. The first thing that hit me was how bright the room was... my eyes had barely recovered from the onslaught in the cryo room and now this! My god... I'm beginning to have an intense dislike for the color white.  
  
Squinting my abused eyes, I slowly fumbled my way to my locker. I quickly entered the combination on the lock, grabbed the first pair of shirts and shorts I saw, and made my way out of that white hellhole. On my way out, I overheard some of the Alphas mentioning about somebody new in their squad. I didn't give much thought to that as it didn't concern me. Instead, I got out of the room and headed down the empty corridor to the showers.  
  
Nobody was using any of the stalls in the showers...yet. I knew that the other troopers would be making their way here soon enough. I wanted to be out of here before then. I immediately took the stall furthest from the entrance. That way, I had a few more private time in case anybody showed up before I'm done. I figured I had a few minutes before my men began to stumble in here. Thinking as such, I did double time on everything--scrubbing, rinsing, shampooing and washing behind the good ol' ears.  
  
I was just putting on my shirt and getting ready to leave when McGregor walked in. How he had managed to squeeze by the tiny doorframe was a mystery to me. Needless, to say, the guy was HUGE. He had arms that looked bigger that my chest and thighs that look that they could crush steel. Don't even get me started on his abs...whew. He makes the guy from a late 20^th century flick(called Terminator or somethin')I saw on Earth look like a stick. Strange thing was, despite his bulk, the man was a gentle giant(you would never have guessed it by the way he looked).A gentle giant that would morph into a raging berserker in the heat of battle. Guess what's his primary weapon on most missions is...Chaingun, you say? Nope. Pulse rifle? Not even close. I'm getting tired of this game so ill say it outright. He uses a rail gun for the sorties. Yep, that's right. A rail gun. I can't even lift one of those babies let alone fire one but McGregor can RUN AND JUMP while carrying one of them. I  
tell ya that guy could lift an elephant if it wasn't extinct.  
  
"Yo, LC! Wassup?" McGregor said as soon as he caught sight of moi in one of the stalls.  
  
"Heh.... not much. We're just out of deep sleep in case you haven't noticed." I replied.  
  
"No shit. I could barely squeeze into one of those sleeping coffins let alone sleep in one. Lets just say it wasn't the best nap I've ever had." The man replied.  
  
"Yeah, I figured as much. Well, see you later Sergeant. I'm gonna go to the mess hall and get me some chow." I said and walked out.  
  
"Ok. Cool." McGregor replied just as the door was sliding shut behind me.  
  
Hmmm, now where was the freaking cafeteria? Damn, those cobwebs must still be in my fucking head if I cant even remember where the food is. Let's see now...this is Deck 4.Below me are the quarter's for the grunts and below that is engineering. Even further down is the docking bay. That means that the grub must be above me. Ah well, time to do a little exploring...  
  
The corridors of the ship were unusually cold. Damn company reps must have skipped on self-heating floors and had opted for central heating. No matter how many advances in science had happened, somethings never change. On top of that, it was freaking quiet too. I guess most of my squad and Alpha team were already up and were chowing down right now. Makes me even more eager to find food. There's just something comforting `bout eating with other people, don't you think? No? Well, at least I think that way.  
  
As I was wandering around aimlessly, I managed to take in a bit more of the ship. I didn't have time before deep sleep because i was too busy directing the grunts. After wandering for awhile, I finally found something that might help me get to food- a computer terminal. I immediately made my way towards it.  
  
"Computer, Online." I said aloud. Immediately, the black screen in front of me came alive and started to display the logo of the USMC.  
  
"Please state your user id and password please" A calm female voice chimed.  
  
"Briggs, Jackson. Password is BlackNigger." I stated.  
  
"Voice identification...matched. Password...verified. Welcome, Lieutenant Commander Briggs."  
  
"Please state your intentions." The com said.  
  
"Sulaco map. Deck 5 onwards." I said  
  
"Please wait. Processing request...Deck 5 blueprint...access granted. Deck 6 blueprint...access granted. Deck 7,8,9 and other subsequent decks...Access denied." The voice flatly stated.  
  
Huh? What the hell? Why am I denied access the higher floors? Aren't they supposed to be empty? Something fishy was going on. Well, you don't get to be a L.C. without learning a few tricks in the process. Knowing the hierarchy, there is always a backdoor built in into any of the USMC programs. That's what the told us in boot camp, anyway. Well, the process WAS secret and highly confidential. Basically, it means only the bigshots know the way in while the grunts are left clueless (as usual). Thankfully, some of those higher ups are lousy gamblers while yours truly has lady luck by his side at the gambling table. You can add two by two by now right? If you don't get my drift, stop reading this and go study some more.  
  
I was just about to issue the override command when I heard some voices coming from a corridor to my right. I decided right then and there that now was not the time to be snooping about....that would come later. I then decided to pretend to focus on the displayed map and try to find my current objective--the cafeteria. I was still at it when the bodies that belonged to the voices appeared. They were guys from Alpha team. I don't know anybody there but I always smile at them whenever we meet(hey, It pays to be good to people that might save my ass in the field).  
  
This time though, I did something different. I talked to them.  
  
"Yo guys! You know where the chow is?" I asked to the marine nearest to me. The name Hicks was written on his tag.  
  
"Yeah. It's up on the next floor-Deck 5. Just take the stairs there and go straight. You can't miss it." Hicks said while pointing to a flight of stairs behind yours truly.  
  
I gave a nod, said my thanks to the men and went up the stairs leaving the trio to continue their conversation.  
  
Ok...I'm on Deck 5. Now, the guy said to go straight, right? OK then, straight it is. I had barely walked down the corridor a couple of meters when I heard voices. It was quite near which made me increase my pace. That and the fact that my stomach's growling like its alive certainly helped.  
  
Finally, I saw the doorway. I thumbed the entrance lock at the side and entered. Before doing anything, I decided to spare a few seconds and survey the situation.  
  
There were a few tables spread out throughout the whole room, but they were mostly empty. Instead, the squads had decided to join a few of the tables to form one long one. There were two(three if you count the table the higher-ups from Alpha used) of those, one on each end of the room. As you can probably guess, each squad had their own. But the strange thing was, Hicks was already there eating. Damn, that guy sure gets a round fast...  
  
I decided that that was enough recon for now. Its time for some food! I made my way to the nearest food dispenser and ordered a beefsteak (or what passed for it anyway). A bowl of gray colored steaming mush came out from the machine. I took it and made my way to my squad.  
  
As I got nearer, the guys spotted me and started to make room for me (after all, I was their leader. Gotta show respect for numero uno, no?) Just as I was getting ready to sit my aching body down, a commotion broke out at the other table. Every single head in the room turned to the source. By now, the room was eerily silent, in total contrast of what it was like a few seconds ago. As I looked, I saw the source of the commotion.  
  
Seems like a woman started it all. A raven-haired woman. I immediately began sizing her up (S.O.P in USMC). She was around thirty, give or take. Around 168 cm and very slim. Totally unlike the other muscular women in Alpha Squad. I guess that she must be new to the squad, as I had never seen her before during any of the previous missions my squad was assigned with the Alphas.  
  
"What the hell do you mean he's an android. I TOLD you, Burke that there's supposed to be no bots. That was the whole fucking deal!" The woman screamed at Weyland's rep, Carter Burke. I think that was his full name.  
  
Android? Hmmm...there's only one of those in Alpha. She must be talking about Bishop. But why the hostility? What's her beef with their kind anyway? Something tells me that this might be of interest to me, so I listened discreetly.  
  
"...Listen, Ripley...Company Regs...Bishop...new model...not like Ash...Sulaco a bigger ship than your...Nostromo." Burke was keeping his voice purposefully low. Maybe he didn't wasn't the whole thing getting blown out of proportion or maybe he didn't want anybody listening in. Either way, I didn't get much info from the talk.  
  
The woman, Ripley I think her name was, was still looking angry but she seems to have settled down enough to resume her meal. As she began to eat her food, I began to do the same thing to mine.  
  
As I ate, I began to play back what I heard just now...Nostromo.... How come the name seemed very familiar to me? I think, no, I KNOW, I've heard the name somewhere. The problem is where?  
  
Suddenly it hit me. Nostromo was the name of the ship that the company supposedly lost contact with a few years back. Word was the ship was on a secret black ops mission for Weyland's Bio-weapons division when it vanished. I remember the incident as a lot of squads from various sectors were pulled from their assignments to conduct a S.A.R (search and rescue). That was pretty strange as the Company never bothered to send more than a token ship to look for previous lost vessels. But even with the concentrated force of about seventy elite recovery squads the search was fruitless. The only clue found was the ship's last destination (which also happens to be our own. Maybe this is connected somehow?) The planet labeled LV426 by the USMC. Not far from the planet was debris. Search of the debris proved to be inconclusive that it belonged to the Nostromo. Instead, the company decide to end the search and colonize the planet instead since a lot of the necessary equipment were already  
there (the search crew always constructed colonies as temporary bases when needed). That was the end of the story, until now it seems....  
  
This mission's getting to be full of hidden secrets, doesn't it? Not that I'm complaining or anything, I love a good scandal as much as the next guy. But I'm not gonna find out anything but sitting here on my butt.  
  
Having decided that, I immediately lost my interest in food. I gave an excuse of not feeling well to the guys and left the mess hall to take a walk. I figured now was as good a time as any to find out why I wasn't allowed access to the upper decks. But this time, I wasn't going to use any of the public terminals. No, I decided the safest place to find out was to use the terminal I had in my quarters. Deck 3 was a long way down so I decided to use the nearby turbolift to get there. I pressed the activator to call the lift and waited. I was still in sight of the cafeteria and so could still see inside it. I decided to take a quick peek while waiting, to see what the grunts were doing without me. As I scanned the interior, my eyes met those of the Weyland rep, Burke. The guy held my gaze for a moment and then winked at me. Damn that shocked the hell outta me. The guy musta have been gay and thought I was too...freaky...Now, more than ever, I wanted to get down to Deck 3. Not  
only to find out some answers but also to get as far away from that homo, Burke.  
  
The tone of a bell ringing heralded the arrival of the lift. I rushed inside the machine as soon as the door opened wide enough for me to squeeze through. I immediately jammed my finger on the button labeled D3. With a stomach churning lurge, the lift began its decent. I nearly lost my breakfast? Lunch? Dinner? On that drop... In space, there's no such thing as day or night.  
  
But before I had even time to compose myself, I had already arrived at my destination- Officers Quarters Deck 3. I quickly stepped out into the empty deck as soon as the lift doors opened.  
  
Deck 3 was mainly used as the crew's and marines' quarters (remember, the Sulaco is a military ship. Marines are always attached to her wherever she goes. So, it makes sense to put aside an entire deck just for the grunts. Basically, Deck 3 consists of crew quarters (about 70), 3 gyms, showers, an armory (there's an armory on every deck. It's a kind of a safety measure that allows the marine to be near arms wherever they are on the ship and the infamous lounge (a huge sprawling room with entertainment facilities. Its filled wall to wall with vidscreens showing everything from cartoons to movies 24/7. One corner of the room even has arcade games and old video consoles (only Tom regularly uses those though. He's a video game nut). But needless to say, the lounge was HUGE (20 meters by 25 meters if I have to guess). But I never spend time in the lounge. I mostly hang out at the gym working up a sweat.  
  
I could hear my own breathing as I walked down the deserted corridor. The ship was like a tomb, deathly silent. All of the others were still on the upper decks so I kind of expected the silence. But that doesn't mean I have to like it though. I passed numerous empty storerooms and quarters on my way to my own. Somehow, the sheer emptiness of the place totally unnerved me. Also, the bad feeling I had earlier had begun to return. Somehow, I could feel that this mission was gonna end up a disaster. Don't ask me how, it's one of those gut feelings I get.  
  
After about 5 minutes of walking, I finally reached my room. I keyed in my entry code at the lock and stepped inside. Inside, I immediately locked the door. I didn't want anybody barging in without me knowing it.  
  
I made my way over to the light switch in the far corner of my room and flicked it on. The lights came on with a brief flickering, illuminating my room. Grabbing a chair from beside my bunk, I made my way to my computer terminal. Finally, time to do some serious cracking...  
  
"Computer...Online." I said.  
  
Just as before, the black screen came alive and displayed the USMC logo.  
  
"Please log in with your id and serial number." The same female voice said.  
  
"Briggs, Jackson. Serial number 5379900." I stated.  
  
"Please wait...Verifying."  
  
"Voice match...Confirmed."  
  
"Serial number...Valid."  
  
"Welcome, LC Briggs."  
  
The USMC logo immediately vanished and was replaced by a command menu. There were 3 commands in the menu- Mission status, Mission briefing or Personal Inquiries. I chose the last of the three. As soon as I selected the last option, the screen became blank save for a command prompt at the upper left of the screen.  
  
"Input pass: Delta Alpha Charlie Niner." I said  
  
"Error...no such command."  
  
Huh? What the hell? No such command? That cant be right. Maybe I said it wrong. Ill try again...slower this time.  
  
"Input pass: Delta. Alpha. Charlie. Niner." I repeated albeit at a much slower pace.  
  
"Error...no such command."  
  
Damn! That's IMPOSSIBLE. That pass can enter ANY computer system built by the Marine Corp. I know, I used it lots of time before this and it worked like a charm...there can only be one reason for this not too work. The Corps did NOT make the computer systems. But, that's another impossibility... It's regulation for all army vessels to use army technology. What the hell is happening here anyway? First, the denied access to upper decks and now this. The whole mission is becoming a bad idea by the minute....  
  
I was at a dead end. That was the only hack I knew that was used virtually everywhere. I was dumbly scratching my shaven head when the doorbell chimed. Immediately, I issued the deactivation command to the machine and went to answer the door.  
  
I went to the metal portal and opened it. I was greeted by yet another surprise (damn, I'm really beginning to hate surprises...). Burke and Gorman (the Operation Commander) were outside.  
  
Burke looked at me, as I stood by the door, dumbfounded.  
  
"May we come in?" He asked.  
  
I merely nodded, too shocked and cautious to say a word. I knew something big was going down. The big guns won't get their hands dirty unless they absolutely have to. The two authority figures outside my door spoke volumes.  
  
I let them enter first, as I closed the door again. When I got back to them, they were sitting on my bed. Taking a chair from my console, I sat down opposite them.  
  
"Well, gentlemen. What can I do for you?" I asked nonchalantly.  
  
Gorman was about to answer my question when Burke interrupted him instead.  
  
"Hmm...straight to the point, I see. Good...I like that in a man. Well, since you're so forward, I'll be blunt as well. The Company has informed me to order you and your squad to be assigned to another mission on LV-426. Effective immediately, you are to gather your squad and report to Bay2 for immediate departure for the surface. Your mission parameters will be relayed to you via the APC's internal comms system" Burke said.  
  
"Wha...WHAT?! That cant be right, sir. I got my orders from Space Marshall Andrews myself." I replied feebly. I still haven't recovered from the impact of what Burke was saying.  
  
"I understand that, LC. But Andrews' authority has been superceded by that of a higher authority." Burke replied flatly.  
  
"Whose?" I asked incredulously.  
  
"Nobody that you need to know" Burke said as he stood up and walked to the door, Goreman in tow.  
  
"Remember, gather at Bay 2 IMMEDIATELY. I suggest you go organize your grunts" Burke said as he walked out with Goreman.  
  
"Damn...what the hell are we getting into now...." I muttered as I hauled my ass over to the vid-phone.  
  
"Activate" I said to the device  
  
The words `online' immediately appeared on the previously blank screen.  
  
"Dial to all Bravo members. Split screen mode. I want to talk to everybody at once."  
  
"Affirmative. Please wait...."  
  
1 good thing about the Corp, they sure know how to build machines...No sooner had I relaxed then the screen came back online, with all of my 12 squad team present and accounted for.  
  
"Alright, listen up apes...We're being diverted to do another mission on LV426. From now on, Alpha Squadron will be on their own. I have just been informed by the OC (operations commander) himself, that our new mission is of utmost importance (I didn't really know that, but getting the grunts think they were doing something worthwhile boosts morale considerably). Gather your equipment and meet me in Bay 2 in 5 minutes...And Raymond...."  
  
"Yessir?" Private Raymond Bracken answered.  
  
"Don't forget to bring your splash suit THIS time...." I answered, putting an edge into my voice.  
  
"Alright, you have your orders. Now move out!"  
  
As one, all the twelve screens blinked out.  
  
"Passive mode." I said aloud to my terminal. Immediately, the screen changed into a screen saver about a boy being chased by a giant bunny. It's one of my favorite stories as a kid although I can't remember the name of it now...  
  
I got up from my chair and went to the locker beside my terminal. Opening it, I saw that my personal belongings remain undisturbed, exactly as they were when I placed them in there months ago.  
  
Nothing of much importance in there though. Just a picture of my family (now long dead. They were amongst the first to die in The Great War.) and a picture of me taken with a sweetheart, before she too died during the Europa Rebellion. It was because of these reminders that I chose to distance myself from becoming too emotionally involved with my squad. I have a knack for getting people I cared about dead...  
  
I kissed them gently before pocketing them into my breast pocket. Nothing more left to do, I switched of all the interior lighting and went out.  
  
The door closed automatically behind me and softly clicked as its locking mechanism engaged.  
  
With a deep breath, I took my first step and headed for the lift, ready to join my squad. Little did I realize that it would be the last time I would see most of them alive...  
  
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Chapter 2 :It begins...  
  
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"Docking Bay 2"  
  
As I looked up at the sign, an indescribable feeling came over me...It was such an amalgamation of various feelings that I had trouble pinpointing what it consisted off. But after concentrating on that single task for a moment, everything became clear, crystal clear. I knew fear had to be in there somewhere and I was neither surprised nor angry to know that it was. After all, a little fear is good for you, keeps you alert in dangerous situations, makes you more cautious and less vulnerable to any shocking encounters. But if you let fear control you, then it becomes a parasite, slowly siphoning you of your will and instead replaces it with indecision. Fear is like a drug, only to be taken in mild quantities. Anything more and you lose control of yourself. No, what surprised me the most after analyzing the feelings were that they contained, a fair amount of acceptance. It puzzled me deeply as I had never gave up a battle without a through fight but here I was, declaring that I  
would die before I had even assessed the situation firsthand.  
  
One thing was for sure though, I was a nervous wreck. I was never one to get scared or anxious about anything but the briefing given to us just now wasn't the stuff that exactly inspired confidence. Hell, it was more like the stuff that inspired nightmares and dreams of hellish monstrosities...  
  
It seemed our mission was more than another Search and Rescue. In fact, it was far beyond any mission parameters that I had previously encountered. Although, Gorman was through doing the honors, I had a feeling that something was purposely withheld from my squad. My years of experience serving in the USMC hinted that that was definitely the case, plus the fact that Goreman kept glancing at Burke every few sentences sealed that way of reasoning...  
  
Here's a transcript in case anybody is interested.  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx========================================================================  
  
Gorman: Ahem! Listen up! You guys, that is Bravo Squad, will be sent to another coordinate about 90 klicks north of your previous landing site. The mission objectives for you Bravos also have changed. You will no longer be required to act as back up for the Alpha team. Instead, Mr. Burke and I will be personally going planetside with the Alphas to provide additional help.  
  
Looks at Burke  
  
Burke nods. Goreman presses on.  
  
Gorman: Your new objectives are as follows:  
  
1-Reestablish the downed communications array at your landing site. The area you will be sent to was previously used as an excavation site and as such will be in poor shape, looking from a defensive point of view. Because of this, you are authorized to bring with you as many remote turrets as you require. Heavy weaponry, inclusive, but not limited to the RS172-E or railgun as you people like to call it, is heavily advised. Any and other weapons with clearance up to level 5 can be brought with you.  
  
2-Your secondary objective is to erect a temporary base at the site and create a LZ. That area will be used as the emergency evac zone in case anything unexpected happens.  
  
Another look at Burke  
  
Burke, as before, nodded  
  
Gorman: As you may have already surmised, the opposition, if there is in fact any, is unknown. That is why you are allowed such destructive weaponry. Likewise, we also do not know the capabilities of the enemy, again even if there is one. Therefore, do not only think of tactics that would work only on humans but those that are flexible and can be easily modified to suit a number of events. What we DO know about the hidden enemy is what we got from Ripley. Ripley, as most have you probably guessed is the civilian woman that is currently assigned as scientific advisor to the Alphas. She claims our opposition may in fact, be another species altogether. A previously unheard of and undiscovered race, an Alien race if you will. She also claims to have fought the species before and survived. You can read the description she gave us in the white sheet of paper that has been handed to you by LC Briggs at the beginning of this briefing. We have surmised that there is a definitely  
possibility of what Ripley said as being the truth. Her derelict ship bore traces of unknown material and liquid of unknown origin. That, and the abrupt loss of contact with the colony on LV426, gave us more than enough to suspect something amiss.  
  
Goreman looks at Burke again, who surprisingly nods...  
  
Goreman: Any questions? No? Good. Report to the weapons bay and take what you need. After that, immediately head to the dropship and depart. Military protocol will be severely loosened during this mission so react with extreme prejudice to anything you think, not know, is hostile. Good luck! Now, move out!!!  
  
Everybody stood up, saluted and filed out obediently  
  
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Well, there you have it, the whole briefing (although I left out some bits when Goreman lectured us about the Nostromo and Ripley.) It's not really required though and to be honest it is extremely droll. Ok, let's continue this tale shall we?  
  
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I was still staring at the sign when Mutombo found me. It seems that he had gone to find me when I was the only one missing at the APC. Maybe, that little reverie had made time pass faster... well, maybe. After all, this WAS space, where strange things were known to happen.  
  
"Hey LC! You ok? I've been searching this whole deck for you... The grunts and I got worried when you didn't show up on time by the APC." Mutombo said.  
  
That outburst brought me back from lalaland.  
  
"Huh? Mutombo? What's the time now? " I asked sheepishly  
  
"1804 hrs, local time. We're behind schedule by 4 minutes." Mutombo replied at my question.  
  
"WHAT?! You're joking, right? Last I checked, it was still 1751 hrs. Still is as a matter of fact..." I said as I glance down to look at my chronometer.  
  
"Hold your horses there, LC. Let me take a look at your watch."  
  
Amused, I handled the man my watch, expecting him at any minute to burst out laughing on how gullible I had been. To my disappointment and shock, he merely looked at the watch and laughed.  
  
"Here, LC. I think you better take a look at the date there." Mutombo said as he handed my gizmo back to me.  
  
Puzzled, I did as he said.  
  
"25 May 2187..." I said.  
  
Suddenly, it hit me. That was the date we left Gateway for LV426. So unless the USMC has time travel capability that I didn't know of, my watch was dead. Deader than most of Guy's jokes. AND to add insult to injury, I didn't notice it...WOW! What a great way to start the mission. If this were to continue, my premonition WOULD come true after all. Hell, I would be disappointed if it DIDN'T. I was just begging to be snuffed out on LV426 if I didn't be more alert. What made me even more disturbed was that, my distraction would probably cause all my men (and 1 woman) their lives. Now, that was a burden I wasn't prepared to carry or even to let happen.  
  
"Man...that sure sucked. And to make matters worse, it was you who found out my mistake." I replied jokingly.  
  
"But seriously though, thanks. You snapped me out of that funk. If you hadn't done that when you did, who knows what major fuck up I was gonna do on the surface." I continued with a solemn voice instead and added a nod to drive the point home on how serious I was.  
  
"Hey...it's no biggie, LC." Mutombo replied while flashing me a quick grin, showing rows of white teeth that were a sharp contrast to the color of his skin.  
  
"Well, let's get a move on, shall we?" I said as I turned and started a brisk jog towards the APC.  
  
"Yes sir!" was the only reply I got as the marine fell in behind me.  
  
The jog through the cool, silent corridors lasted for only about 5 seconds. When the run ended, I was at the portal that led to the docking bay. I could see the APC at the fifth second but it took me longer than that to reach it because it was on the other side of the docking bay.  
  
With each step bringing me closer to the armored vehicle, finer details began to emerge. I noticed that the APC wasn't the standard model that was normally assigned to us for our missions. Instead, the one sitting there was a top of the line, state of the art APC-Delta. 22 meters in length and 10 in width, It was codenamed Delta because it was the fourth in the line of the current version of the APCs used by USMC. Delta boasts an enhanced molecularly bonded armor that is reported to be able to withstand everything from Industrial Acid to multi-megaton nuclear explosions. Needless to say, those babies were built to last. Another departure from previous designs is its twin Vulcan cannons mounted on the front of the vehicle. Capable of firing either caseless, incendiary or armor piercing rounds, the gun was a major step up from the machine turret of the previous designs. The Vulcan Cannons can fire up to 200 rounds per second, individually. They have all the standard scanners  
and visual aids (heat sensors, electromagnetic and biomechanical energy signs are among some of the signatures that the gun can use). With a normal range of about to 750 meters (without user guidance) the cannons can pick off any threat easily before they can even become a danger.  
  
Yet another improvement of the Delta design is its interior. Capable of seating up to 24 fully armed marines, that too is yet another step up from the Charlie class of about 20. The communications part of the vehicle also has been completely revamped. Now capable of using tachyon pulse to send signals up to 500 light years away, the communications array also supports HUDs for each of the marines vital signs. Also, video feed from the now standard head mounted helmet cameras can be piped in live, allowing the operations commander more tactical options in the heat of battle. When the USMC upgrades, they do it in a BIG way...  
  
As I neared the vehicle, the only door on its right side swung open. Standing right inside and wearing a grin big enough to swallow a cow whole was McGregor.  
  
"Glad you could join us, LC. The party was starting to get boring without you here to liven things up." He hollered as I neared.  
  
"Yeah? And I thought it was YOU that always made the party boring, McGregor." Mutombo shot back from behind me.  
  
"Naw, that was just a figment of your imagination that you teeny brain must have made up to combat that inferiority complex you have..." replied McGregor.  
  
I can't help but chuckle a bit. The joke wasn't the thing that made me laugh though, it was the spirit and camaraderie that my squad seemed to give off that made me chuckle. The feeling of strong trust, friendship everlasting and grim determination was so overpowering that it nearly overwhelmed me for a minute.  
  
As I came within range of McGregor, he reached out with his right hand. A gesture to help me up. I gladly accepted his proffered hand, reaching out with my own.  
  
Without any noticeable effort, the hulk of a man hoisted me up the whole height of about 1-meter. People who have never seen such a raw display of strength would have been terribly impressed but I was a veteran of such events and as such barely raised an eyebrow.  
  
After I was inside, McGregor turned and did the same thing with Mutombo. I didn't stand there and just watched though. Even as McGregor was lifting, I was making my way to the front of the vehicle and taking my seat at the controls. During my short trip, I heard the door slamming shut, signaling that everybody was in the vehicle and we were good to go.  
  
I scanned the boards as I was taking my seat and it was at that moment that I realized that this APC was brand spanking new! I was pretty sure of it as the chair I was sitting on was still covered in plastic and the vehicle had a strong smell of paint and disinfectant.  
  
I pondered the complexity of the situation just for a moment though. So what if USMC had decided to give us a new APC? Somebody somewhere was bound to need it, so why not us? But even as I rationalized that thought a silent voice kept repeating itself in my head- Does the Corps know something we don't?  
  
I picked up the head microphone and wrapped it around my neck, securing it fast there. As per regular procedure, I tested the instrument.  
  
"This is Bravo One. Bravo team, sound off." I said  
  
"Bravo two standing by..."  
  
"Three here..."  
  
As each of my squad called in their status, I checked the screens in front of me to make sure that all the equipment was functioning normally. It just wouldn't do to have an equipment malfunction on the surface where we needed everything we had.  
  
There were thirteen screens in front of me with twelve of them representing each of my men and 1 that represented me. The screens carried the pictures the helmet cameras sent. Superimposed on the same screen, albeit at a lighter tone to prevent blockage, were several status indicators that showed heart rate, blood pressure, adrenaline level and muscle fatigue. So far, all my men were in the normal limits, that is to say that they have accelerated heart rates with high levels of adrenaline pumping through them.  
  
Seeing every status indicator in the green and getting reports of no irregularities with equipment, I strapped myself in a prepared to issue the order to disembark.  
  
"Everybody ready?" I shouted to the guys.  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"NO! NO!"  
  
"Umm sir? I need to pee."  
  
"Anybody know what they're serving on flights nowadays?"  
  
"Sir? How do you use the harness again?"  
  
"Wanna hear a dumb joke? There's this..."  
  
Various replied came my way, ranging from straightforward answers to dumb wisecracks.  
  
Despite the tense situation, I felt relieved to see my squad still able to crack jokes. Without further ado, I radioed in to the android at the helm.  
  
"Rook? We're ready. Take us down."  
  
"Affirmative, LC Briggs." Came Rook's reply, her voice cool and crystal clear.  
  
With a stomach-churning lunge, the vehicle moved.  
  
I knew what has happening even though the APC had no portholes to see through. Rook was simply driving the machine up the ramp of the drop ship. The drop ship would then in turn be released from the Sulaco and free fall down to LV426. At a set altitude, the ship would then engage its engines and deliver us to our destination.  
  
I had done tons of space drops before to the point where I could literally time when the nausea would come. And as if not to disappoint, the familiar feeling of weightlessness encompassed me with surprising quickness.  
  
I had just a millisecond to get in a deep breath before I blacked out and knew no more...  
  
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Chapter 3:The Ride Down  
  
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"Look at him... "  
  
"Jeez...I wonder how he could sleep at a time like this."  
  
I vaguely heard somebody talking as I swam out of the murk that had encompassed me. As, I neared the threshold that separated the unconscious and the conscious, those voices gradually became clearer...  
  
"-Yawn-. Morning boys! Had a good drop?" I asked the squad as soon as I feel reasonably awake.  
  
"What did I tell all of you? The guy has BALLS OF STEEL!" Mutombo exclaimed while looking at the squad members.  
  
I smirked inwardly at that remark. If only they knew the real reason, they would have died laughing.  
  
"Hell yeah! I bet all of you that nobody and I mean NOBODY, in the whole corps has a more bad ass leader than Mr. Briggs here." Another encouraging morale boost, this time from Guy.  
  
I was about to respond when the gentle, also unnoticeable, swaying of the dropship became suddenly violent.  
  
Various equipment that hasn't been stowed properly, flew around in the interior of the vehicle. Weapon lockers above the marines' heads became unlatched when the jostling got too much for them to handle. Pulse rifles and other assorted weaponry fell out like water running off a steep cliff.  
  
I heard some dull thuds as the heavy guns found their mark on some unfortunate sap's head. I wanted to turn around to make sure nobody was seriously hurt but my priorities overrode my concern. As the person in charge, it was my responsibility to be always on top of every situation that arose.  
  
I held on tighter to the overhead bars that lined the ceiling of the small vehicle as the vehicle rocked once again, the most violent one yet. Behind me I heard somebody shout out a curse in a foreign language, which was, abrupt followed by a deep thud. After that fateful thud, the guy who cursed was not heard from again. In any other situation, that might have persuaded a laugh from me but the current situation was far from comedic...  
  
Besides, hanging on required most of my concentration as it is. With the shaking going on, keeping my footing was becoming an increasingly arduous task. Eventhough it looks like I was barely making any progress, my training and morbid curiosity drove me to inch forward to the cockpit section of the APC.  
  
The cockpit was not that far from where I had sat. In fact, without all the shaking, I would only have needed around five normal steps to be in its threshold. As it is, I needed around 20 just to reach the door.  
  
I waited for the shaking to subside somewhat before I decided to make my final push. That way, at least if I fucked up, I wouldn't be severely hurt or thrown off balance.  
  
I threw myself into the cockpit section with a massive expenditure of effort. As I lay sprawled on the floor, Rook managed to tear her eyes away from the instruments for an instant to look at what the cat had carelessly tossed in.  
  
"Have...ing...Fun?" her voice trembled as she spoke. The fact that her voice trembled alone spoke volumes about the current situation. Androids, or artificial humans as they were supposed to be called officially, had built in suspension systems, kind of like the muscles in our body. The systems present in androids serve in exactly the same way as a human muscle does, only about 1000 or so times stronger. Thus, for Rook's voice to tremble like that, it must be an immeasurable strain on her system on maintaining our present course and heading.  
  
"No time for jokes, soldier. Give me an update on why the ship's shaking like a dog in heat." I said, forcing my voice to remain steady amid all the trembling.  
  
"Well sir, to put it bluntly, we hit something on the way down." Rook answered.  
  
"Something? What was it? A meteor? Space debris? What?" I said  
  
Rook never had the chance to answer as without warning, the forward viewscreen spiderwebbed and shattered into a million pieces. Thank god we were already quite far down into the surface or else our journey would have ended right there.  
  
Combat reflex probably saved my eyesight right then and there. Before my confused brain could register what had happened, my muscles were already were working overtime, telling my eyelids to slam shut. A split-second later, I felt tiny pinpricks of pain around my bare face and around my left arm. I knew I had been cut, not badly I hoped, but I didn't dare open my eyes for fear that the danger was not totally over yet.  
  
With my eyes shut, my situational awareness fell right down to zero. Unable to see, I had to depend on my other senses to fill in the blanks. I could tell we were below cloud level as the wind that entered the exposed cockpit contained traces of moisture in them. That would mean we were near the ground. Of course, `near' was a relative term. We were underneath cloud cover but that still didn't tell me jack about how high up we still were.  
  
"Rook? Are you there?" I shouted aloud, trying to make myself heard over the roaring wind.  
  
"Right here, L.C." came Rook's equally loud response.  
  
"How far up are we? Can you bring us down?" I threw a barrage of questions at her.  
  
"I don't know how far up we are, L.C. The altitude meter was one of the first casualties of the shattered glass...As, for your other question of bringing us down, I think I can manage a somewhat soft landing given our current capabilities."  
  
"Well, what are you waiting for? TAKE US DOWN NOW! I don't want to spend another second more than necessary on this rickety boat. Who knows how much longer it will hold?"  
  
"Aye, sir."  
  
Immediately, I noticed a change in the whistling of the wind. Its previously high pitch had deepened and now was changing into a deep rumbling. That was a good sign as it meant that the craft was going down. But one thing still had me worried...  
  
"Rook, I forgot to ask you this before..." I said  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"But do you still have any thrusters? I noticed that we seemed to be gliding during our entry..." I asked tentatively, afraid at the answer she might give.  
  
"Nope." Rook replied coolly.  
  
I tell you, I almost fainted right there and then. I think the craziness of the situation and my own morbid curiosity on how I was going to meet my maker was all that kept me awake.  
  
"L.C., I think you better go back into the back and tell the others to strap down. It's going to be a rough ride." Rook said to me without tearing her gaze from the oncoming planet.  
  
"Uh-huh...yeah, I think I'll do just that." I replied as I backtracked towards the main part of the ship.  
  
The ship's rocking became even more jarring as I trekked back to me seat. I nearly tumbled towards the tail end of the vehicle when I let my guard down as I was preparing to sit. Thank god for my quick reflexes `cause without them I would probably be a stain on the bulkhead...  
  
Grabbing my command chair with sweaty hands, I hauled my butt into the seat and strapped myself in. After making sure I was securely fastened, I swiveled the chair so that I was facing the guys.  
  
"LISTEN UP! BRACE YOURSELVES! THERE'S A GOOD CHANCE WE MAY CRASH! REMEMBER YOUR TRAINING AND WE MAY GET OUT OF THIS ALIVE!"  
  
Even though I was screaming at the top of my lungs, the puzzled looks my squad gave me told me that most of what I said was lost to the howling wind.  
  
Knowing that another repetition of what I had said would just give me the same results, I just settled for a thumb up instead.  
  
McGregor was the only guy who bothered to reply with a smile. All of the others just stared at me as if I've just gone insane... Well, now that I think about it that wouldn't be so far from the truth. Being in a situation where you don't know if you're going to survive and yet still smiling is considered being a nutcase in MY book, although it didn't occur to me at the time...  
  
As if the fates wanted to drive home the point about how crazy the situation is, the APC was jolted by another tremor, the worst yet in my opinion. But this time, that was not all there was to it. With an ear-piercing shriek, imagine somebody just raking his or her fingernails across a blackboard, the back door of the APC fell off. It literally FLEW off its hinges, ripped by the tremendous winds exerted on it from the outside and until a few moments ago, from the inside as well. I guess APC doors were strong on the outside but soft on the inside, ya?  
  
I could see it careening off into the distant horizon as Rook took the APC in for a crash, although I certainly hoped survivable, landing...  
  
Now that the outside was clearly visible from where I sat, I found myself staring out into it- totally mesmerized. By now, the sun was already setting on the barren planet. Pretty soon it will be dark and the temperatures will plummet to up (or maybe I should say down?) to -300 degrees.  
  
But that didn't mean shit if Rook didn't land the crate in one piece. A startling revelation broke me from my reverie as I noticed that we were much closer to the ground than I expected. I mean, I could even make out fine details, like rock outcroppings in the waning light. That alone spoke tons about how low we had gotten. If I had to guess, I'd say that we were only bout 1 or 2 klicks up. Not a bad height, but I'd prefer it if it were 1 or 2 meters...  
  
By now, the roaring wind had died down so much that I could hear myself and the others speak.  
  
" Alright apes! BRACE FOR IMPACT!" I shouted, assuming my role as their mission commander.  
  
Without question, the 12 arrayed marines checked their harnesses to make sure that they were properly secured and had no chance of coming off in the turbulent landing that was sure to follow...  
  
I wisely took my own advice and checked mine. My blood froze in my veins as I discovered that one of my safety lines had been clearly severed. I could only speculate at the cause but if I had to guess, you can be sure I placed my bets on the shattered glass from the cockpit's windshield.  
  
I cursed under my breath and tried to slow down my frantically racing thoughts.  
  
"Ok... so the line's cut, deal with it Briggs." I muttered to myself as I thought of another method on how to save my worthless hide.  
  
There was no question about it. Without the protective shock-absorbing qualities of a harness, I definitely am going to be squished and it wasn't going to a very pretty sight.  
  
I frantically patted myself down, hoping for something, ANYTHING that would give me the inspiration that would save my life. This is the part where I said I found something that eventually saved my life, right? If that was what you were expecting, you're screwed, hehe...  
  
I didn't find anything on my person that would save me. I was starting to accept my fate when my pulse rifle dropped from its storage area above me and right into my lap. Damn, it's like a sign from somebody up there if anything...  
  
Dumbfounded, I stared uncomprehendingly at the weapon for a moment, wondering how it could have escaped from its hook. But then a wild idea struck me. Looking at the weapon, I noticed that the strap was made of the same material as the harness...  
  
Well, if anybody out there with any brains is reading this, then you guys should logically know what happens next, ya?  
  
I cut the strap with my teeth (desperate times calls for desperate measures...I didn't HAVE the time to look for a freaking knife...well, not if I want to live anyway). With the cut strap, I immediately tied it to both ends of the severed harness. Thank god I was a scout once `cause those guys were the fucking MASTERS at tying things up so tightly. Hell, I don't think even Armageddon itself could pry loose some of the knots I've seen them tie...  
  
Calling upon years of crazy knot tying expertise, I tied the knots that would one day be called the mother of ALL knots. Well, MOTHERS, with a `S', as in my case as there WERE two of them technically. The knots I tied were so twisted, even I had trouble understanding how I had managed to tie them that way in the first place. I guess the only plausible answer is that crises DO bring out the best in people...  
  
Finished with my jury rig, the only thing I could do was to pray like all life was going to end. Hell, mine was if this didn't turn out favorably...  
  
The tremors suddenly took a turn for the worse. Even with my new harness (thank god it was holding), I could feel gravity working to pull me out of my seat and try its hand at creating a brand new stain on the barren landscape. I was jostled around my seat like a rodeo rider so much that I almost believed that I was in fact one of them and that this was just a hallucination after being conked on the head one too many times...  
  
But alas, I knew the truth and that was far from my dream. Hell, what I was experiencing was probably more brutal and physically demanding than any bronco ride in the history of mankind.  
  
One moment I was pulled upwards and away from my seat. The next I was pushed as far inward into the soft cushion as far as it would allow. Twice, I nearly passed out as the pressure abruptly changed in the craft.  
  
But I kept hanging on...By sheer determination and that goddamn sense of morbid curiosity that I told you earlier about.  
  
Just when I though the ride could NOT possibly get any worse, it did. I was beginning to think that somebody UP there had a really sordid sense of humor. I swore right there and then that if I got out of that ride in one piece I would seriously considering of shipping out of the USMC and becoming a priest. Hell, anything to get out of THIS hell...  
  
Hmm...where was I? Oh yeah, the ride got bad. Really bad and really fast. The herald was a tiny high-pitched whine. I barely noticed the sound at first but it steadily grew in pitch that I started to get a headache. That was once I noticed something...the whine was coming from above and right behind me. I racked my ravaged mind to think of what was behind me. What I got was not what I had wanted to know. If my memory was correct (and it usually was) then I was right outside the generator of the APC... Now that didn't bode well, did it?  
  
If that thing went critical it doesn't matter if we landed or not...we would be cooked in its nuclear explosion after it reached meltdown...  
  
Regardless, I didn't see any way I could amend the situation, at least not while strapped to a chair and with the craft still in flight. I decided that assessing the damage done to the generator was going to be my first priority as soon as we touched down.  
  
Doing my best to ignore the sound, I instead directed my attention on my squad. Of the eighteen men, none of them were conscious. Its seems the crazy flight had taken its toll on my men and they simply fainted from either exhaustion, fear or the immense g-force being exerted on their bodies.  
  
`WHHHHAMMMMMMAAAAMAMAMAMAMAM!BAM!BAM!BOOOOOOOMMMMM!!  
  
After all that we had experienced, the crash that suddenly engulfed the vehicle was like god-sent. Finally, it was time to do or die. After all that my body had mind had been subjected to, I was willing to put my life at stake on having the whole thing end...one way or another.  
  
Up became down and down became up. My sense of direction was completely thrown out the window as the vehicle rolled end over end, repeatedly.  
  
"ARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, trying to vent my frustrations somehow. Being strapped in tight while everything was going to hell was not my idea of a good time. That, and I was scared shitless...  
  
Finally, my body succumbed to the inertia and g-force imposed upon it. The blackness of unconsciousness was a sweet escape from the mortal prison that we all know as reality...  
  
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Chapter 4:Survival  
  
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I had a very nice dream. I dreamt that I was back on earth, on my father's ranch in New Kansas. I loved living on the farm as a kid, riding the horses, milking the cows and all that shit. Hell, I even planned to become a farmer before `it' happened. But my dream was not about the incident just the farm.  
  
In my dream, I was riding Buster, my horse. Buster was a black stallion that my father bought for me on my 5^th birthday. I remembered when I saw Buster for the first time. It was the only time I remembered being truly happy.  
  
I dreamt that I was riding Buster at full gallop. The wind was rushing towards me and I could scarcely breathe. But that didn't matter to me, the only thing that did was that I was truly free, free to roam unhindered by anything. Everywhere I looked, I could only see the green plains on my dad's farm, stretching towards the distant horizon. The sun was shining, the weather was fine, big fluffy white clouds lazily floated in the sky high above...Everything was perfect.  
  
I had all the time in the world to do anything my heart desired. And yet, I could sense that there was something amiss. Still galloping, albeit at a reduced speed, I scanned the horizon and the sky. Now that I realized that something was amiss, I could just make out a distant rumbling of some sort.  
  
Pulling on Buster's reign, I made the horse stop so I could listen to the sound more acutely and perhaps determine what's causing it. With the horse at a standstill, I noticed that all sounds had ceased. No birds chirping, no winds blowing- nothing save for that ever present distant rumbling.  
  
As I listened, I noticed that the rumbling was rapidly increasing. When once it was a distant rumbling, now it was a relatively near roaring sound. It was getting louder by the minute yet there was not a physical sign to herald its imminent arrival.  
  
By now, that dull roar had reached a deafening crescendo, overpowering my hearing. The sound was so deafening that it overwhelmed my hearing threshold. I covered by ears hoping desperately that it would at least ease some of the sound. But it still persisted, growing louder and deeper by the minute. By now, the earth at Buster's feet was starting to shake, as if it was experiencing an earthquake.  
  
I decided that riding Buster wasn't a safe bet anymore and decided to get down from his saddle. And I thought the vibrations from the saddle was bad...As soon as my feet touched the ground, I was immediately thrown flat on my back.  
  
As I lay there on the dirt, I could feel the tremors even more acutely than before. It was as if the earth itself was being torn apart by something.  
  
I really didn't feel like lying around any more and had started to get up when it happened.  
  
With a sudden lurch, the ground beneath me gave way. Without thinking, I jumped sideways, pumping all my strength into my legs, hoping that maybe, just maybe, I could escape from the chasm that was fast opening up under me. Everything moved in slow motion as I jumped. I could hear my heart beating, pumping life-giving blood all round my body. I could hear myself breathe, could see my breath crystallizing in front of my very eyes even though it was impossible since it was a warm day.  
  
I floated lazily sideways, just as the clouds above had done minutes before. I could look below and still see the earth crumbling, albeit at a greatly reduced rate. I could literally make out individual pieces of dirt dislodging them from where they had probably rested for eons to fall into the inky darkness below...  
  
Time seemed to slow even more as I got closer to my goal--the edge of the pit. My heartbeat filled my hearing, erasing all other sounds completely. Pounding relentlessly, going on and on, continuing its unending tempo till the time I die...  
  
Maybe somebody else could do it. I couldn't...  
  
My stomach left its natural position and went up to greet my frantically beating heart as I plummeted down into the darkness of the yawning abyss. I tumbled end over end as I fell, doing all sorts of flips and cartwheels, as if I was performing for an unseen audience. One minute I was staring at the still blue sky, the next I was staring down the darkness of the pit. I knew then and there that I was done for...  
  
Panic overwhelmed me. Fear took control. Despair engulfed me.  
  
The hopelessness of the situation brought out the worst feelings that I had ever felt in my life.  
  
Knowing that I couldn't do anything to improve my situation was like a cancer. Slowly, poisoning me into submission, embracing me into its fold of death where countless others had met their demise before me...  
  
I was more afraid than I had ever been in my life. The yawning blackness that slowly came up to claim me did little to help calm me. With each passing second, I got closer to the void. And with each second, so did my fear grow...  
  
I yearned to wake up. Somehow, deep inside, I realized that what I was witnessing was actually a dream or a hallucination. Perhaps even a combination of both. My soul itself seemed to strain against my unconscious mind, willing it to release me from this hell and back to reality.  
  
The blackness was almost with me now. It was all encompassing, filling my view completely until I had trouble deciding whether I was staring right into the dark with my eyes wide open or whether my eyes were shut.  
  
As I seeming reached the point of no return, I felt myself being jolted backwards. Somehow, I was being pulled up, back towards the light. Without a second thought, I willed myself to be lighter, lest the mysterious grip on me looses it strength. I relaxed myself, knowing no matter what happens next, no fate could be worse that this...  
  
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"Jesus, he's heavy..." McGregor grunted as he hauled his unconscious leader away from the burning wreck of the APC. Even with his enormous strength, the human had trouble lifting his leader from the wreckage. It wasn't because that the gravity of the planetoid was high, in fact, the planetoid uses artificial gravity akin to earth's. No, it was the crash that had shaken McGregor and sapped his strength. Never before had he been involved in a disaster of such magnitude.  
  
After having survived numerous dangerous situations virtually unharmed, McGregor had been lulled into a false sense of security. He had thought himself and those closest to him to be invincible, impervious to harm. It was always the guys he didn't know, the ones who didn't pay close enough attention that got hurt or killed. Never him, never his friends.  
  
Having his belief destroyed in the blink of an eye shook McGregor to his very soul. Everything he believed, destroyed in a second. The realization that this was no game and that he and everybody in the squad could have died struck at the core of his soul, making him question his every belief save for one--He was still a marine and he still had a job to do. It was this belief that drove McGregor on relentlessly since he had awoken after the crash.  
  
When he first awoke, McGregor was still strapped to his chair. The protection afforded to him by his harness had saved his life, just as it was supposed to do. The first thing McGregor noticed was that everything had fallen apart inside the vehicle. Wires were hanging everywhere, magazines for every conceivable weapon was strewn about on the floor, consoles that used to display various information had been shattered and worse of all, the interior of the APC was awash with blood. Amazingly, the reactor for the APC had been totally detached from the ruined vehicle. With the reactor gone, there was little likelihood that the craft would explode.  
  
McGregor could hardly believe the scene of carnage that lay before him, so much so that he contemplated committing suicide to end it all. The interior was totally ruined and McGregor figured that things could only get worse from that point on. All the immediate future would bring would be more hardship and pain, McGregor's mind rationed. Ignoring what his mind thought, McGregor decided that now was not the time to die. He owed it to the L.C. to check for survivors and goddamn it, marines never quit--SEMPER FI!  
  
It was after 5 minutes of hard work clearing debris that McGregor found the first of his comrades, the first that was still alive that is. Although McGregor would toil for hours (it being dark outside sure didn't help any) more, he would only uncover 2 more survivors of the 13-man squad. The Bravos were totally decimated, their numbers dramatically cut short. 13 men left the Sulaco for the surface...only 4 made it intact. The survivors, Briggs, Mutombo, Guy and of course, McGregor had miraculously survived with only minor cut and in Mutombo's case, no injuries at all.  
  
Dragging the still unconscious Briggs back to the make shift camp was tiring, to say the least. But nonetheless, the hulk carried the man back without incident.  
  
"Guys! Come quick! I found Briggs!" McGregor's voice deep voice cut through the still night air. McGregor, with the body in tow, slowly made his way to the campfire. When he figured he was near enough, McGregor gently laid down the body of his leader and laid down, tired from having exerted himself for the past few hours.  
  
Mutombo and Guy, who were both in charge of taking scavenging from the wreck, came running towards McGregor, totally forgetting their task.  
  
"Is he hurt bad?" Mutombo asked as he reached the area where McGregor had laid the body down. Even by the waning light of the campfire, the other two soldiers could make out the look of concern etched out on the face of their ally.  
  
"I don't know...I mean, there's no visible signs of injury on the surface but there may be internal problems that we can't see." McGregor spoke, lying on his back.  
  
" Great...with Doc dead, there's no way to be sure. Anybody here had any medical training?" Guy asked as he scanned the guys.  
  
The dismayed looks on the other two men's faces told him all he needed to know. The answer was an empathic no...  
  
Suddenly, like a zombie newly resurrected from the dead, the prone body of the unconscious leader sat up.  
  
The effect that sudden move had on his men, the LC decided, was priceless...  
  
McGregor practically threw himself backwards (he was a brave in a firefight but superstitious as hell) in a bid to get as far away from the `zombie' as possible. Guy on the other hand was more in control of himself and only managed a tiny squeak. That and doing a magic trick with his face that drained it of all blood, living it completely white, discernable even in the dim light.  
  
Perhaps, the bravest of the men was Mutombo. He barely even flinched and had his weapon, a pulse rifle, trained at the newly risen body and ready to shoot within the blink of an eye.  
  
Flashing his men a lopsided grin, the LC began to speak.  
  
"Don't worry. I'm all right." Mumbled the newly revived L.C.  
  
---------------------------------------------===================---------------------------------------  
  
I came around just as McGregor was setting me down gently on the dirt. I was a little touched to know that McGregor lowered me down gently and not just dumping me unceremoniously.  
  
Even though I was conscious, I still didn't feel like being in command, certainly not just yet. So I decided to play possum for a while and just relax and let the guys come up with something to help improve our situation. I still didn't know the true extent of the damage but being dragged away to safety put serious doubts on my mind on the possibility that I was the only one seriously hurt. I didn't help when I heard Guy and Mutombo approach.  
  
"Mumble...mumble...bad?" I could barely make out what Mutombo said. His voice was barely a whisper in the still night air.  
  
"...Don't know...no...mumble...mumble...injury...mumble...mumble...see." McGregor rumbled a reply, his voice filled with doubt and concern.  
  
"Great...mumble...mumble...mumble...mumble...mumble...training?" I heard Guy ask the duo.  
  
"No" was the reply he received although I didn't get what he had asked for in the first place...  
  
I decided that I had enough rest and that my men matter more to me than rest. Mustering all the strength I had, I sat up.  
  
I swear, the expressions on my men's face were priceless. I nearly burst out laughing in spite of the situation but the rifle pointed at my skull sure didn't seem funny. Besides, laughing then would probably qualify me as being crazy and earn me a shell in the cranium...  
  
"You going to use that weapon, soldier?" I said weakly to Mutombo.  
  
"Huh...? This? NO, SIR! I just thought you were the living dead or something..."Mutombo stammered a reply.  
  
"DAMN, sir! It's good to have you back." McGregor said, relief was clearly evident in his voice.  
  
Guy didn't speak but his expression told me that he was pleased that I was all right.  
  
"Its good to BE back." I said, louder this time.  
  
I was determined to put up a brave front in front of my men. God knows, all they need now is a weak leader. In times of crisis like this, the only way to ensure a squad functions smoothly was if the man in charge radiated strength and confidence, like the sun itself. That was what I planned to be, and ill be damned if I fail my men.  
  
"What's our status?" I said as I stood up and surveyed the surroundings. From where I was, it seems that the crew had established a camp in the middle of some rock outcrops. The natural placement of the rocks created a calm spot in the center that blocks most of Acheron's harsh winds. It was at that precise spot that my boys decided to create a campfire.  
  
Night had fallen on LV426 and with it comes the biting temperatures that could spell our doom if we were not careful. I could barely make out the dark silhouette of the crashed APC although it couldn't be more than 50 meters from where I was. The darkness of LV426 seemed to have an unnatural ability to swallow light, even the illumination from our campfire barely reached 5 meters. It seemed as if the darkness has a mind of its own, a mind determined to keep secrets away from prying eyes...  
  
"Not good, L.C. We lost everybody except us, most of our arsenal and equipment are either unusable or missing. Our communication equipment's shot too...We can't radio to the Sulaco for help. In other words, we're pretty much fucked..."  
  
"Spare me the dramatics, soldier. This isn't the time to be sarcastic." I muttered.  
  
"All right, what DO we have instead?" I asked, hoping at least for some good news.  
  
"Well, most of our weapons are gone..." Mutombo replied.  
  
Sensing that there was more to be said than that, I waited for the man to continue.  
  
"BUT, we have managed to salvage some equipment. We got 4 Pulse rifles with about 20 clips, max capacity on all of them. We also found about 15 of the rifle's grenades and about 21 flares, not counting the one used to start the campfire. Guy managed to find and repair 3 headlamps so illumination's not gonna be much of a problem. The MAIN problem is gonna be survival. We have totally NO field rations, no food nor water. I guess we can survive a few days without them but if we don't get anything soon..." Mutombo said as he pointed to the pile of equipment that lay in a heap at his feet.  
  
I cut in before the inevitable question of dying could take hold in our thoughts.  
  
"That's it? Not good but still way better than I expected." I mused aloud.  
  
"All right, distribute the guns, five clips each. Nobody gets special treatment." I continued.  
  
Guy stepped in and checked each individual rifle carefully for faults before handing them to everybody.  
  
"McGregor since you're the weapons expert, I suggest you take 6 grenades while each of us take 3. You'll put them to better use anyway." I said as I took the grenades from Mutombo's outstretched hand and gave them to McGregor.  
  
"Guy, you and McGregor get a headlamp each. A scout's gonna need light to see anything, right? And a weapons expert that cant see shit not gonna do us much good... Mutombo..."I turned to him as I spoke "We gonna have to draw straws on who gets the remaining lamp, I guess."  
  
"No, L.C...You're the leader here and as such you get the lamp." Mutombo replied, nary a hint of doubt or regret in his voice.  
  
"But..." I started to protest when he abruptly cut me off.  
  
"But nothing, sir. Frankly speaking, you're a better shot than me anyway."  
  
Seeing that I was not going to be winning the argument (besides, he WAS right about me being the better shot...), I gave up.  
  
"I'll take the lamp, on ONE condition. You get the flares." I said, giving Mutombo the sternest look I could muster at the time.  
  
Sighing, Mutombo just nodded.  
  
Taking the lamp from where it sat, I clipped it on to my helmet, adjusting it so that it projected its beam straight. I finished around the same time as the other two.  
  
"Don't waste the batteries. Once they're gone you're gonna be left in the dark so use them carefully, you hear?" I said to Guy and McGregor who both solemnly nodded.  
  
"Mutombo, you stay close to either of us. That way you can see where you're going."  
  
"Yeah, we don't want you getting lost now, do we? All too easy for that to happen since you're so dark." McGregor said as he chuckled.  
  
"In case you haven't noticed, McGregor, I'm black too..." I tried to make it sound as serious as I could but I just really succeed.  
  
"Back to business, boys!"  
  
"Ok, now that the equipment's issue is settled, we gotta come up with a plan." I said as I sat down.  
  
"I say we hike to Hadley's Hope. At least there we can hook up with the Alphas." Guy said. I saw McGregor nod in approval too.  
  
"I figured that as well but there's just one tiny problem. We don't know how far off we are from it..." I replied. Looking up at the three faces before me, I saw that the same thought had crossed their minds too.  
  
"We were headed for the mission site when we crashed, remember? Even if we stayed pretty much on course the whole time, Hope is 90 clicks away. We wouldn't last that long trekking, not in Acheron's weather." I continued.  
  
"No, I say that we head towards the excavation site. There's bound to be something there we can use to signal the Alphas or maybe in even call in the back-up dropship." I went on.  
  
"But how do we know where it is, sir?" Mutombo asked.  
  
"With this..." I said as I help aloft my right hand, proudly showing off my watch that was attached to it.  
  
The guys just stared at me as if I had just went insane...  
  
"You guys have no idea, do you?" I asked, somewhat amused.  
  
The three of them just shook their heads dumbly and continued eyeballing me.  
  
"I guess I have to explain then..." I muttered wearily.  
  
"This little gizmo here..."I said as I pointed at my chronometer "is more than a watch. It has a built in homing device that I can manually tune to home in to any signal. ANY signal at all." I continued.  
  
I saw Guy get it but the others still wore their confused looks.  
  
"We all know that the excavation site has a beacon, right? AND beacons are there why? Because they emit HOMING SIGNALS... After that's how we were planning on locating it in the first place. So, if I could just tune into the right frequency, we'd be all set." I explained.  
  
The guys' faces immediately changed as they digested this new bit of information.  
  
"But sir! Wouldn't it be easier to just home in on Hadley's beacon?" Mutombo asked, excited now at the prospect of potential survival.  
  
"Good thinking, soldier BUT you forgot one thing. All communication was lost with the colony. That means no radios, tachyon pulse emitters OR beacons like the ones we need..." I broke the news to my men.  
  
"Oh..." Mutombo looked positively crestfallen after seeing his idea shot down.  
  
"All right...let's see if this thing still works after all it's been through." I mumbled as I fiddled with the tiny controls. "Press this button here...select a menu there...press a button again...and...VOILA!" I exclaimed, glad to find that my little gizmo worked after all.  
  
"Ok...it says here that the site is due west from here and its just under 2 klicks. I guess we could probably see it if not for this darkness." I said to my gathered comrades and pointed to the direction in which we were going to be heading towards soon enough.  
  
"OK! Now that's everything's settled, let's move out!" I exclaimed to my gathered men.  
  
"Roger that, SIR!" My three men said simultaneously.  
  
The journey got off to a slow start due to us not being able to see far ahead. Batteries for the headlamps were non-existent so we decided to only use one lamp out of the three. The proposed idea was for Guy to lead with the rest of us following closely behind him in single file.  
  
Sounds simple enough, doesn't it? Well, even the simplest plans sometimes don't work the way they should...  
  
Got you guys going there for a moment there didn't I? I bet you guys were thinking that something bad or unexpected happened to us during the short walk. Too bad...we got there unhurt and unscathed.  
  
As we neared the perimeter of the excavation site, we could tell something bad had happened there. The site itself was just a small circular area made up of a few makeshift shelters, something these terraformers had in abundant supply, arranged in a crude circle to at least stem off some of Acheron's harsh winds-a design that they probably copied from the rocks near our camp. The shelters were still standing from where we stood but there was still something amiss. There was a scent in the still air-an acrid stench that stung my nostrils. It was kinda sickly sweet...like an overripe fruit that had been left out in the sun too long.  
  
I recognized the smell almost immediately, anybody who had been in combat probably can tell what it was too because it was an all too familiar smell in a battlefield, even more so than gunpowder. It was the stench of rotting corpses...  
  
But in the dim light, we could barely make out any other visual details.  
  
"Something happened here...Something bad..."I heard Guy mutter warily.  
  
"No shit. All right Bravos, here's where we start earning our pay. Combat formations! Guy, McGregor! Take Point. Me and Mutombo will cover your asses."  
  
"Aye." Guy and McGregor muttered.  
  
I felt McGregor move up from behind me to take his position beside Guy. I could hear his breathing, the night was deathly still...  
  
I felt for the light that was on my helmet and flicked it on. Even that tiny motion produced a seemingly louder sound than usual...In the corner of my eye, I saw that McGregor had already switched on his.  
  
Mutombo was quickly by my side, weapon ready and aiming into the looming darkness.  
  
"Belay that last order...Change of plans!" I whispered. I could feel that 2 by 2 was not going to be of much help in this area so I decided to change our tactics.  
  
"Stay frosty people..."I knew the guys were getting real nervous, especially after my sudden change of orders.  
  
"New plan...Overlapping field of fire, people. Guy take 12 to 3 o'clock. McGregor, you got 3 to 6. I'll take 6 to 9 and Mutombo, you got 9 to 12." I snapped off orders to the various members of my team, choosing the best formation to combat our disadvantage-low visibility, low ammo, low numbers and worse of all, unknown aggressors...  
  
To be continued... 


End file.
